Missing
by Luna-Dara
Summary: What happens when Watson leaves and isn't heard from again?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any of this...Just you know putting it out there. Please R&R so I can make this the best FanFic that I can write! Enjoy!**

* * *

~Chapter One: Where the Wind Blows~

~Sometime in the afternoon~

The sunlight was bright in the brownstone. It contradicted the events that were transpiring before the great Sherlock Holmes. He couldn't quite make sense of it nor could he figure out a proper response to it. It had been a while since the whole Irene incident. Watson was leaving, no indication of how long she would be gone or circumstance but that she was leaving. He needed more time to try to figure this out, more than he anticipated at least. But he didn't have that time because Watson was standing at the main door with her suitcase by her foot and her coat on.

"It's been a pleasure working with you Mr. Holmes," Watson said with such formality.

"May I inquire about the reasons behind your sudden departure?" He asks.

"The wind is blowing in a different direction for me. It's time for me to leave. The good news is you can finally finish your steps with Alfredo," she says giving a sure smile. He stays silent, again unsure of how to respond to this. She stretches her hand out, a gesture he knew indicated that a hand shake was in order. But for some reason he found a part of him was reluctant to the idea of saying farewell after all they've been through with a mere hand shake. He succumbed anyway and returned the hand shake.

"Best of luck, Watson," he says before he releases her hand. Again he senses this unknown reluctance. She nods her head and picks up her bag and turns to leave. A cab was waiting for her outside. He stood in the doorway, watching her as she got in the cab. She didn't turn around. For some reason he was hoping that she would turn around, one last look. But she didn't.

He stood in the doorway for five minutes...ten. That part of him that was reluctant before came back, it wanted to think that this was a joke. A practical joke to get back at him for something or other. That she would come back, he would yell at her and say that this action was completely irrational just to prove a point. But his logical side knows somehow that this is in fact reality. She's gone. His body moves inside the house but his mind is still at the door. Still replaying the scene. Still replaying how he came from the roof from tending to his bees. He was startled a bit by her standing in the doorway staring expectantly at the stairs with a firm face. She was waiting for him to descend before she left.

He found himself standing in the doorway of her room. The bed was neatly made and everything that may have said someone else was living there was gone. Everything but the smell of the perfumes she used on occasions. It lingered. It was a barren room besides the furniture. He was by himself. He could do whatever he wanted now. He goes to inspect the bathroom and again anything that may have indicated he had someone else living there was gone.

His phone rings in this moment bringing him back from his thought. He finds that he is disappointed to see that it wasn't Watson who was calling him. It was Alfredo.

"Hey, I just wanted to remind you that we have a meeting to go to tonight." Sherlock thought for a moment before responding. Watson had no doubt selected her day of leave to be the day of a meeting. Perhaps, in a way, to mandate him to converse about the events that took placed. "You didn't forget did you?" Alfredo asked.

"No, I haven't. I will see you at the meeting," he said in his best composed voice. He hangs up the phone but is still lost in thought. Trying to figure out what could have happened that led up to this sudden departure. She seemed to have been acting as her usual self. He couldn't quite pinpoint it. She seemed despondent after receiving a phone call from her mother, but he had come to know her holding mixed feelings towards her mother.

* * *

Sherlock stares at the time seeing that it was almost time for the meeting. Despite saying to Alfredo that he was going to make he wasn't sure if he would. There was a knock at the door and he walks quickly over to it. A sense of disappointment can be felt when he sees it is Alfredo at the door, which he mentally dismisses the possibility of feeling that emotion. Though they had not spent as much time together Alfredo could pick up the slight differences in Sherlock's tone and facial expressions.

"I said I hadn't forgotten about the meeting," Sherlock said.

"I know, but you sounded a little off earlier so I thought that I should come by and see how you're doing."

"I'm doing quite fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Joan told me about today being the day that she leaves. Said to keep an eye on you."

"You knew about her leaving before today?" he asked while a strange fury began to build its way up. She told Alfredo of her leave but not him?!

"Just this morning. Said she was already in the car and that she got called back for an emergency client, and that she was going to try to keep in touch but couldn't guarantee anything."

Sherlock was lost in thought trying to figure out everything. How long has she known about this new client? Why hadn't she mentioned it before? Was she afraid of his reaction to it? The questions kept piling up.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So here's the second chapter, Thank You everyone who has followed this story. Please R&R and enjoy!**

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~Chapter 2: One Year~

"You know, I miss it when you had your better half here to control you," murmured Detective Bell. It had been twelve months since Watson's leave. Sherlock hadn't heard anything from her. No text, no phone call, no letter, nothing. Part of him wanted to know where she was and was tempted to try to track her down. Mostly so he could yell at her for the way she just left. But then another part of him said that he would break his trust with her most definitely if he did try to track her down. She never really liked that. Sherlock ignored Bell's remark and continued to leaf through case files.

He had solved many cases without her assistance. He's done many things, work with his bees, conduct experiments, watch TV with the volume raised, even invited over the Lynch sisters once in a while. But for some unknown reason to him that small remark about her absence seemed to make its way to the forefront of his mind. He tries to avoid remembering her because for some reason it puts him in a grim mood. He concentrates on the case files before him, focusing on trying to solve these puzzles.

"Hey Sherlock, Captain wants to see you," Bell said to him then walked away. Sherlock was a bit peeved that he was again pulled away from his distraction but went to see Captain Gregson anyway. When he entered the Captain made a gesture to close the door. He did so then took a seat.

"How's everything been with you?" Gregson asked.

"I'm fairly certain that this conversation isn't going to be just about my wellbeing. So if you don't mind could you please get to the point so I may resume my work?"

"Alright then, I'll cut to the chase, I got a call from where Irene is being held. They said that she wanted to send you a message since you never replied to her letter," Gregson said. He paused for a moment, taking in Sherlock's reaction before he continued. "She says 'I admire your bees. You've done a very good job at taking care of them, particularly Euglassia Watsonia. Your bees are quite busy.' Does any of this mean anything to you?" Gregson asked. Sherlock was processing the information that he had just heard.

"I believe it is some kind of 'jab' at Watson. Though I cannot figure out at the moment the rest of it," Sherlock said while still pondering the message.

"A jab? Why would she make a jab at Watson? The only thing I am understanding here is that it sounds like a compliment. She's complimenting you for your work with Watson I'm assuming in making her a Consulting Detective," Gregson said, Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"She must know something about Watson then right now because she says 'Your bees are quite busy,' meaning that Watson is busy doing something. How can she know what Watson is up to and not either of us? I'm assuming she has not contacted you or Detective Bell since last year," Sherlock says while some kind of anger begins to build up inside of him. _Of all the people in the world to know of her possible whereabouts why Moriarty? _Sherlock thought.

"No, I'll see if I can get a hold of her. Just to make sure that she's alright," Gregson said as he reached for his phone. He saw that the Captain was worried as well for Watson's wellbeing. The Captain hung up his phone. "She didn't pick up. Maybe you should try calling her too. In the meantime I'll make sure that there are extra eyes on Irene and I'll keep trying to get a hold of her."

* * *

When he got to the brownstone he went straight to Watson's room. He hadn't been able to bring himself to enter this room. He couldn't figure out why, it was after all just a simple room. A room that he had lent to Watson for her stay here. He did not understand why thinking about her put him in this type of mood. He searches the room for sign of anything she might have left. Anything that might say she's in danger, or in contact with Moriarty, anything! Frustrated when he finds the room to be spotless he goes to the roof and watches his bees.

"Something bothering you?" Alfredo asked as he walked towards Sherlock.

"Everything is perfectly fine. My heart rate is normal, I have not taken any drugs. My deduction skills are quite fine. I don't understand why you would ask a questions such as that."

"Mostly because I received a phone call from Captain Gregson asking me if I had heard from Joan and after I said no he told me to call her. After I couldn't get a hold of her Gregson said that he was afraid of that. Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Alfredo asked as he took a seat on a box next to Sherlock.

"We had received an odd message from Moriarty which caused us to become worried about Miss Watson because it seemed to be targeting her in some way. In attempt to dismiss the idea that she was in danger we have been trying to get in contact with her but she has not responded to anyone," Sherlock said as he stared at the bees in deep thought. Alfredo just stayed quiet. "I went into her old room this afternoon, in hopes of finding some kind of clue but I found nothing."

"Gregson told me that they were going to reach out to her family, see if they know of her whereabouts as well as the agency she worked for before. They should be able to at least point us in a direction of where she might be."

"I find myself worrying for her safety now. It worries me that nobody has heard from her in over a year. I thought that she would at least keep in touch with someone but it seems not. What if she has been injured badly, cannot get in contact with us? Worse what if…" Sherlock said, his voice trailing off. He didn't want to think that she might be dead.

"I'm sure she's fine. You did teach her a couple of things after all didn't you?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the extra A/N but there's a chance a may write a sequel to my other JoanLock short ****_Grave Confessions_**** since some people have decided to follow that story. Comments on whether or not I should go through with it are always welcomed.**


	3. Chapter 3

~Chapter 3: The Missing Bee~

* * *

~The Next Day~

Captain Gregson had called Sherlock and told him to come down to the prescient. He wouldn't say over the phone what it was they had to talk about but he suspected it was about Watson. Alfredo offered to accompany him to the meeting, since he was worried about Watson as well. Sherlock just nodded his head and went out to hail a taxi.

Sherlock, Alfredo and Detective Bell sat outside Captain Gregson's office and waited for him. He was on the phone talking to someone. Sherlock's leg was moving in a nervous fidgety manner. He observed Bell and saw that he was fidgeting with his hands, drumming them on his sides. Captain Gregson got off the phone and waved them in. Sherlock took a seat, Alfredo stood against the wall by the door and Detective Bell stood behind the second seat.

"I have been able to get a hold of Mrs. Watson, she says that she hasn't heard from her daughter in over a year. She said the last time they spoke they got into a fight of sorts. Joan screamed at her and told her that she never wanted to see her again, that she was fed up with trying to impress her family. After that they hadn't heard from her. They figured that she would come back when she was ready.

"As far as close friends go, none of them have heard from her either. They thought nothing of it because she is known to no respond to them. Nor do they have any ideas as to where she might be. We called up the agency that she was working with as a sober companion and they said that they never contacted her to come back for an 'emergency' client. So as it stands right now there's a chance that she's been missing for a year."

"She has to be somewhere. Some kind of trail should have been left, credit cards, driver's license, bank account," Bell said, listing off other means to track her. Trying to come up with an idea, anything that they might be able to use to their aid.

"As of right now, there seems to be no Joan Watson," he said interrupting the Detective's list. At the Detective's silence, Captain Gregson lets out a sigh.

"What do you mean 'there seems to be no Joan Watson'," Sherlock asked.

"I mean there's no bank account to her name, no medical records, no state ID, no credit cards. It's like she doesn't exist."

"Don't forget to breathe," Alfredo said. Sherlock hadn't realized that he was holding his breath. All he thought about was that she could be dead, or not even in the state, or the country for that matter. And her record has magically been swept clean? This doesn't make sense.

"Right now, I'm not sure what we're looking at. Based off of how everything is looking, it looks like a runaway. I don't think we have enough evidence for a possible kidnapping so I don't think we can really put everyone on this task. However, between us, we will snoop around and see if we can find any clues as to where she might be.

* * *

Back at the brownstone Sherlock paced around the house furiously. He retrieved all of his cameras from around the house and collected their recordings. He watched them so many times trying to find a clue, something!

Then he found it! Something that seemed to have started two months before she left. It was a small detail, she always had mail. He never thought of it before, but now that he's watching this she always got the mail. The way she quickly flipped through it…looking for something. She was expecting a letter. So whoever wrote those letters is their best lead. However, she took the letters to her room which means, those letters are probably gone.

Then the day she left – he was taking care of the bees – she looked towards the camera and mouthed something. _I'm sorry._ How could he have been so foolish before as to miss this?! She regretted leaving it seems, she didn't want to. He was fooled by her. She was getting better at concealing things and showing what she wants to show he had to admit. She knew that at some point he would be watching these videos.

"I'm sorry," He muttered to the screen that had a picture of Watson giving him a sad smile.

* * *

_Sherlock was standing in front of Watson, her coat is on and her bag is by her foot. She just said that she's leaving. She extends her hand for a handshake. He knows this. _

_"No, you are not leaving," Sherlock said with far too much emotion than what he had wanted._

_"The wind is blowing –" _

_"Don't you dare, give me that answer again! You have to stay here. It's safer for you to stay here right now. If you go out those doors you will be lost."_

_In response to this statement she straightened her posture before answering._

_"You do realize that you can't change what has happened, right?" she asked him. He felt confused. "You're reliving this moment in a dream. You can't change what has been done. I'm merely speaking what you deduct she would say in a situation like this, other than that I am simply a figment of your imagination. I do know what's your burning question, where is Joan Watson? I wish I could tell you but there's not much to go on here," she says as she picks up the bag and turns to leave for the door. Sherlock tries to run after her but he is prevented at the threshold._

* * *

Sherlock woke up. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room. After thinking things over he concluded that, whether she left on her own accord or that she was kidnapped, they would have needed to contact a computer expert in order to help make her 'invisible'. It wasn't as easy as Hollywood made it appear to be.

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**A/N: Hey, Luna here. Thank you to the people who have written reviews, I do appreciate it. I hope you all will continue to R&R as I continue to write this.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey there, Luna again, a small thing has been brought to my attention and I figured that I should address it now. Better late than never right? There may be some references to Season 2. If I do they will probably be small things. On another note again Thank you for R&R! This one is a little bit shorter than the others but enjoy anyway!**

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Chapter 4: A Busy Bee

* * *

P.O.V: Moriarty/Irene

"Busy, busy bee you are my dear. A far greater challenge than Sherlock I must say," Irene said to herself as she drew a picture of a bee. "I must say I had you pegged wrong, you're not just the _mascot_ as I had said you were. You have proven yourself to be quite the adversary. Perhaps you'll listen to me and join me unlike Sherlock. Men cannot truly understand us women, now can they?" she asked the drawing. Then there was a changing of the guards. The mumbled something to each other, then the one that was posted before left. As she heard the doors close she approaches the new guard. "Hello love, how is the plan proceeding?"

"Everything is going according to plan to get you out of here. However the plan to catch the bee is proving to be a bit more difficult than anticipated."

"How many times must we go over the fact that you should not underestimate a woman?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we are currently working on recapturing her. We are right now in the process of tracking her." This comment infuriated Irene.

"If you just had her, why are you tracking her again?"

"She seems to be changing her appearance after each encounter."

"Make sure she's found by the time I'm out of this wretched place."

* * *

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock had found that there were many people in the city of New York who had the computer abilities to erase a person's entire history. Though he had already ruled out some people on the list just based off of their skill he still had many on the list. He had been looking at names and profiles for days, trying to find possible people. The more he looked the more he felt like he was losing time. He printed up a list of names and proceeded to hunt each individual down.

* * *

"Listen man, even if you do find the person who did delete your partner's information, I don't see what help that would be? We just get paid to do the job, not ask questions. She probably wouldn't have told anyone if this was her doing," a rather heavy man said while he sat in his chair right next to his computer. Sherlock could tell that this man was not telling the full truth. Perhaps a half truth.

"You're not telling me something, I suggest that you tell me what it is or else I will report your hobbies to the police," Sherlock threatened.

"Okay, okay man! Sheesh! Don't go crazy. It was something I heard in the forums. Someone was looking for one of us to do a job, they wanted us to do it early. A buddy of mine said that he took the job and did the delete. My buddy said that they came about a week later to his house to verify that the job was done. He couldn't tell what the person looked like, they were covered from head to toe. A few days after, he was confronted again by someone else. Next thing I knew, he was in the hospital recovering from a beat down. That's all I know," the man said. Sherlock, somewhat satisfied with the answer he had gotten, left the man and went back to the brownstone. He still was faced with a problem, which was of course: Where was Watson?

He didn't want to go see Moriarty, but he felt like he had no choice since he couldn't find anything. The only thing he has been able to figure out was that Moriarty may be the only person who knows where she is. Sherlock picks up his phone and calls Captain Gregson to inform him of his actions. Gregson says so long as he takes Detective Bell with him.

* * *

"Hello love," Moriarty said on the other side of a window. Sherlock sat in a chair with his hands in his pocket while Bell stood right behind him arms crossed. "I was wondering when you would decide to visit me.

"This visitation is not out of concern for you."

"Ah yes, your bee. You did a very good job with her. I was quite surprised that she figured us out. She is, however, a bit difficult to read. I'm assuming more training with you."

"I would like to know where she is."

"Isn't that a coincidence, so would I," Moriarty said with a smirk.

"That message you left me, I assumed it meant that you knew of her since you mentioned that she has been busy."

"Busy yes, I do know that. However her whereabouts, I am almost as lost as you are my love. _Almost_," she said with another smirk, this one more devious than the last. "Perhaps she does not want you to find her. If that's the case, I would take her warning, we wouldn't want you getting caught in the crossfire now would we my love?"


	5. Chapter 5

~Chapter 5: An Empty Crime Scene~

It had been a week after meeting with Moriarty. It proved fruitless, records showed that she had not had any visitors since her incarceration. Sherlock saw the way Captain Gregson would look at him, he looked with sympathy and grief. As if he had already given up the possibility of Watson being alive. One year…Watson has been missing for one year. One year, and he hadn't noticed. How could he _not_ have noticed?! She was truly becoming quite a good detective. Sherlock had been staring at security footage of New York City for a few days. Trying to somehow figure out where she went. He initially followed the taxi car that she drove off in but then he lost her.

He had already contacted the taxi company a couple of days ago, he did in fact managed to track down her exact driver. But he proved to be completely useless. He had told him that the woman only told him to drive along the avenue. Then she paid in cash and got off in the middle of the avenue. The taxi was a ruse.

"Okay now, Sherlock this has to stop," Alfredo said as he entered the TV room. Sherlock glanced up enough to see him. "You have been staring at these videos for almost a week without rest, you need a break."

"I cannot until I find at least a clue that might lead us to her location. Everyone else seems to have given up already but not me! I will keep looking."

"How would she feel if she saw you like this? You barely eat, you barely sleep."

Sherlock glared at Alfredo. He just had to use her as a threat. He wanted to say that this threat would not work but he found himself removing himself from the TV room. _Why does that threat make me comply?_ He thought.

"If she was here I would not be doing any of this in the first place," he mumbled. Not sure if Alfredo heard him or not. He proceeded to go to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

"C'mon, Gregson says he has a case and he could really use your help," Alfredo said while standing in the doorway.

* * *

They arrived at an apartment building that looked modern. Gregson was waiting for them outside.

"An old couple called it in. Boy, do they have a story for you," Gregson said as he pushed the button to the twentieth floor.

"Is there any security footage?" Sherlock asked taking note that there were security cameras in the hallway and the elevator.

"Currently working on obtaining it."

"Then you should have the killer on the footage, and if that's the case my services are not required here assuming your men know how to solve a standard murder."

"The thing is, we don't have a victim's body or a potential killer."

When the elevator dinged open they stepped off and made a right. They saw a lot of caution tape squaring off spots where blood was. They were then approaching a door where an elderly couple stood arm in arm talking to some officers. The door at the end was open, it _must be the crime scene,_ Sherlock thought. As they approached the couple he nodded his head to them.

"Hello my name is Sherlock Holmes,"

* * *

"It started last week I think. Mr. Ryder, he lives in the apartment over there, he always has new girls coming in. We got a glimpse of one of them once, she looked like a fragile thing. But at night we would hear knocking. My husband recognized it as Morse code. She was a smart girl whoever she was. Where our bedroom wall is must be connected to where she was on the other side. We wanted to call the police immediately but she said not to, not yet. The other night she said to knock on the door, we did. Mr. Ryder didn't seem quite right. When we got back she tapped out SOS. We called the police then, heard a big commotion in the hall way. We heard a thud near our door and this came in," the wife said as she raised an SD card. "They were long gone by the time the police got here." Gregson took the memory card from her and the proceeded to make their way to the scene.

"That is quite a story, truth nonetheless," Sherlock said as he took in the apartment.

"We haven't been able to find anything in here that looks suspicious," Gregson says.

"We must find the wall that is connected to the couple's bedroom," he said as he started looking for it. While banging on the walls he found a secret door that led to the crime scene. A blood stained mattress by the wall, chains and other torture tools all covered in blood. And a knocked down tripod.

"That's a lot of blood," Gregson mused.

"Whoever our victim is she is definitely smart. She sent a code to the neighbors to knock on the door thus creating a distraction for her perpetrator. While he's gone she manages to steal the memory card from him. Somehow in the hallway the two of them get into a commotion which ends with her being near the neighbor's door thus she was able to slide the only evidence underneath. She is very smart," Sherlock says in somewhat awe of this plan the woman devised. A team comes in and takes numerous samples of the blood, most likely assuming it came from more than one donor.

"Sherlock," Gregson says after getting off the phone, "They have the footage downstairs." Sherlock nods his head and proceeds to follow Gregson.


	6. Chapter 6

~Chapter 6: Personal Storage~

"Have you heard anything about Watson?" Sherlock inquired when they were in the elevator.

"No, we haven't yet. There's no evidence of anything. No mailbox, no paper trail. Like I said before, on file she doesn't exist, says she never existed," Gregson said as he ran a hand through his hair. "She should have just taking that job," Gregson mumbled the last part, but it did not escape Sherlock.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock inquired.

"Before all of this happened I tried getting Joan to go back to being a sober companion. Tried getting her away from you because I was afraid that she was going to get caught in the crossfire. I just didn't expect her to walk right into it willingly." Sherlock stayed silent. He took this in for a moment. Gregson was concerned for Watson's safety. But she willingly stayed despite where it got her. They walked into the security room where Detective Bell was. As soon as they're in the room he plays the video.

It shows a presumed Mr. Ryder shoving a woman outside the apartment. She was bloodied and she looked bruised. She had red long hair and was of pale complexion. It was a bottle red. The video has no audio, but they're talking. Mr. Ryder gets upset and punches her. She falls to the floor by the couple's door. As she gets up she checks where she was punched and she has blood on her fingers. He yells at her then drags her by the wrist to the elevator. That's when Sherlock notices something. The woman places her hand with the fresh blood on the wall while waiting for the elevator, her finger moving in a distinct pattern. The man begins to get frustrated and drags her down the stairwell.

"We have to go back upstairs," Sherlock says has he makes his way to the elevator. Once back on the twentieth floor he positions himself where the red headed woman would have been, and then he sees it! She had written a message in her blood. It said:

_B2_

"B2?" Bell asks.

"She left us a clue. We must go to the Basement, that's what the message means," Sherlock says after taking a picture of it and pushing the button for the elevator. Gregson waved someone over to take a sample of the message. They get on the elevator and pushed B2.

* * *

B2 was dark, it looked like a parking garage. They then hear crying, the faint sound of banging. They found a door down there that said _Personal Storage._ They open up and to their surprise it was a room with ten girls in it. They were chained up, looked malnourished, had blood stains and were crying. The age ranged from sixteen to ten. One of them looked up to see Sherlock.

"Is your name Sherlock?" a small girl asked.

"Yes I am," he said as he crouched down to her level and began picking at the shackle's lock. The girls face brightened despite the circumstance. Upon hearing his answer the other girls' faces began to lighten up.

"See guys I told you that we could believe her," the child said.

"Who's her?" Sherlock asked the child.

"Angel, she was like us. She was really pretty. The man said that she was worth a lot of money. We gave her a name because she said that she couldn't remember her name so we named her Angel."

"Why did you pick that name?" Sherlock asked as he continued his work on the other shackles that the other girls had on.

"Because she rescued us," an older girl answered. "When she came in she asked us what the man liked from us. She then acted that way and the man chose her more than he did us," the girl said as she started down in her lap. Sherlock knew what she meant, the man used them and this woman made herself more appealing to try to save these girls, even if it was for just a moment. "She told us the last time she was down here that a man named Sherlock Holmes would come rescue us with his companions Detective Bell and Captain Gregson." The three of them looked at the girl. How could this person have such specific names?

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly did she look like? This, Angel?" Sherlock asked.

"She had long red hair, she was really pretty when he first brought her down here. She looked like she was in her twenties," the girl said, trying to focus on the image of Angel.

The rest of the police officers came in and helped get the girls out and to a hospital. Sherlock, Detective Bell and Captain Gregson stood outside the building.

"How easy is it for someone to get our information?" Detective Bell asked.

"It can be fairly easy to obtain your name. The Captain is very well known and is on the news I'm sure. Detective Bell, you're always accompanying the Captain. And as for myself, I have developed a reputation here. If anyone can contact me for my services then I am sure that they can also find out my name," Sherlock said as he too pondered as to why this individual would give the girls this information. He would have thought it to be Watson, but based off of the girl's description and from what he could see from the video it wasn't her. Couldn't have been her! He didn't want to think of the reason why she would be in a place like this.

"Anyway, I'll send people to go check out the girls at the hospital, we'll have the labs run some tests on the blood samples. Most likely they will be from those girls and our mystery red head. Once we rule out the girls we'll have a name."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the support! Aren't you special, another chapter for today! Well here it is, I'm sure you know who the red head is ;)**

* * *

~Chapter 7: The Memory Card~

P.O.V… Joan Watson

_Keep running, keep running, keep running! _That was all she thought as she ran through the streets. She made it to her hiding place without being caught. She was exhausted but forced herself to climb the fire escape. Once she got to the top she felt the urge to puke. She leaned over the railing and it all came out. Whatever food that was in her stomach was gone now. _I really overdid the run today,_ she thought as she climbed through the window.

* * *

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

He hadn't heard from Gregson about the samples and was growing anxious. This case proved to be an interesting one and served as a palette cleanser as far as he was concerned. It had been twenty-four hours since they acquired the samples. _It should not be taking this long to run tests,_ Sherlock thought restlessly. Unable to control himself he grabbed his coat and scarf and hailed a cab.

* * *

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Gregson asked as he continued to study the papers that were before him.

"You did not respond. I am sure that you have the blood test results and I would like to know what they are." Gregson sighed then grabbed the paperwork in front of him and gestured for him to follow him. When they were in the conference room Gregson closed the door. He then gestured for Sherlock to take a seat.

"The results are, all but one correspond with the girls that we rescued."

"And that would be the one that the man had taken I assume."

"Yes, we tried to match her in the system but she's not there."

_Watson!_ It was the only thing Sherlock's brain thought of. It was right there in front of him. The evidence all pointed to it, the only thing that didn't match was the description that the girl gave them. Then at this realization many questions began forming in his head._ Why did she color her hair? Who was she hiding from? It must be Moriarty!_

"We are keeping an eye on Irene, but like she said, she hasn't had any contact with anyone from outside," Gregson said. "We figured it was her from the memory card. It shows evidence that Mr. Ryder brought girls in and abused them."

"It was a slave trade," Sherlock said. Anger filling every part of him. He wanted to find this _Ryder_ and kill him for what he did to Watson.

"Yeah. It's definitely _her_. She looks different though, she really did look like she was in her twenties. But it was her. That would explain her elaborate plan there. Towards the end she managed to turn the camera on, she was recording the audio. Mr. Ryder was talking to someone, they were going to meet. We got the location and I sent men over there. Mr. Ryder is currently in the hospital, when the men got on the scene he was dying."

"She wouldn't have tried to kill him."

"I know, but right now I'm not sure what she would or wouldn't do. If she was in this much trouble why didn't she tell us? She went this far to keep it from us, from you! And if she's been here for a year then why did she let us '_find'_ her now? I'm sure she's been in other slave trade areas."

Sherlock was stumped. His emotional side just wanted to go to the hospital and finish the job of killing Mr. Ryder. The logical side said that they needed him so they can try to get some information on Watson. He also wondered as to why she would have slipped up if she was trying to hide. _Unless this was her way of telling them that they could find her now? She was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for them to follow. But why leave a trail? Why not just come up to them and tell them everything?_ Sherlock's train of thought was interrupted by Gregson. He exhaled deeply.

"Since we think that Irene is looking for her, and that she has someone working for her here, I've kept this finding on the low. You and Bell will work on trying to find her, I'll keep everyone here preoccupied. Keep up the appearance that we can't find her."

Sherlock nodded his head. He could not figure out why his heart was beating irregularly.

* * *

~One Week Later~

"Hello Mister…um, Ryder is it?" Sherlock said as he sat across the table from him in the interrogation room. Bell stood near a corner and watched carefully.

"Yeah," he said roughly.

"Right, now besides having the pleasure of telling you that you are going to be going to prison to rot for the rest of your life I'm going to ask you a question. One I'm hoping that you'll have an answer to. I would like you to tell me about the woman with red hair."

"Ah, I remember her. The girls called her Angel I think. She was my favorite," the man said with sick smile on his face as he recalled the memory of the woman. Sherlock felt like he was going to lose it.

"Tell us what you know about her!" Bell said as he slammed his hands on the table for emphasis.

"What about her do you want to know? You'll have to be a bit more specific, how soft her skin was? How the sex was? How her blood tasted?" he asked one after the other.

* * *

**A/N: Mr. Ryder is a bit creepy isn't he? **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I couldn't resist, I had to post another!**

* * *

~Chapter 8: Finding an Angel~

~A Few Hours Later~

"All I know is that I got a call to pick up this lady. They didn't give me a name, they gave me a picture. In the picture she had red hair, looked like she was in her mid-twenties. A pretty thing that's for sure," Ryder said with a sick smile on his face. Sherlock's knuckles were turning white. He had been sitting there listening to what this man did to Watson. "I was supposed to go meet with someone and trade the _bitch_ off; get paid. But then that damn couple came knocking on my door. I thought that they were going to call the police, so when they left I called the guy; told him we would have to leave and meet sooner than planned. His _merchandise_ was gonna cost me my business.

"I dragged her out, she was being stubborn so I punched her. We got to the meeting point early. Then the damn _bitch_kicked me in my groin and did something to my neck and I passed out. Next thing I knew the guy was shaking me awake asking where she was. Told him she ran off and then he shoots me."

"So you have no idea where she may have gone off to?" Detective Bell asked.

"How the _damn_ hell am I to know? I just pick 'em off the streets, I don't talk to them."

* * *

Mr. Ryder did not prove to be of much help, if anything it only fueled Sherlock's rage that was building up. He had to think of something. He sat on the floor and stared at his wall of crazy, he never would have thought to see Watson's name up there. He made himself some tea and tried to calm himself down, he knew that the only way he was going to solve this is if he thought with his brain not his emotions.

_She had to have known that the man was a war veteran and knew Morse code. Which means she did extensive research before she decided to be 'captured'. But I don't remember assigning Morse code as a reading, _Sherlock thought. He immediately walked over to his library and searched for a book on Morse code. Upon finding it Sherlock felt nervous. He couldn't understand why he would be nervous upon opening a book, but he was. When he opened it there was an envelope inside with his name written on it.

_Sherlock,_

_I am very sorry for leaving. I wish that I could explain, please know that I had to. I hope that you are doing well. I appreciate everything that you taught me, know that I will put it to good use. Be safe._

_-J. Watson_

Sherlock wasn't too sure of how he should respond to this. _How long has this been here?_ He thought to himself before yelling at himself for not going through his library. He would have known sooner that she was in danger. He still had no idea where she could be. All he had were suspicions, nothing concrete.

Besides her family and the few friends she had managed to keep in contact with, Sherlock knew nothing about her really. If she was to run away or hide he wouldn't know where to look. Then it hit him! He ran over to the computer to look up abandoned buildings. He remembers that he had told her once about safe houses, such as the one he had held Moriarty at. Perhaps Watson found other buildings where she could hide out.

He had found a decent amount but had managed to knock the list down to five places. She had to be in one of them. His leg was jittering as he thought hard while looking at a map that had all the possible locations flagged. The question was, which one would she most likely be in? Sherlock deduced that she did to research on Mr. Ryder and his neighbors so she would need a place of relative close proximity to the building. This narrowed his search down to two possible places. Satisfied with his findings he quickly sets off to investigate the locations.

* * *

~Three Hours Later~

He was running to the second location now, the first one was empty. As he approached he saw that the front was boarded up and showed no evidence of forced entry. He saw that there was an alley way of sorts and walked down there. He was looking up searching for a way in when he noticed the fire escape. As he continued to walk he almost stepped in vomit. He thought that it was an odd place for it. When he looked closer he noticed that there was more blood than stomach content in it. He was able to pull down the ladder than proceeded to climb up. His heart was racing, but at the moment Sherlock couldn't be bothered with a trivial thing as to the reason why it was racing. The only thing he thought of was that Watson could be here. _No, she had to be here!_

He lifted the window and stepped into the dark room. It hard an odd smell in it, it smelled of some rot but also of something sweet. He quickly recognized it as Watson's shampoo. He pulls out his phone and turns on the light and quickly searches the room. He is disappointed when he sees that the room is empty, but not completely empty. It showed evidence that someone had been living there. He was sure that this was where Watson was staying. He sees candles in the bathroom and walks in there. _They are slightly warm, she must have left a few hours earlier perhaps,_ Sherlock thought.

As he observed the surroundings he takes note of bloodied gauzes and a few bottles of rubbing alcohol and other things. _She's patching up herself,_ Sherlock thought as he looked at the amount of medical supplies that were in the room. As he scanned the room he saw a pile of clothes that were ripped and stained with blood. Then he spied a small package of sorts wrapped in newspaper that had his name on it. He carefully picked it up. He wasn't sure if he should open it up or not. He carefully opened it, he saw that it was a notebook. When he opened it he saw another envelope with his name written on it. _Why is she leaving me notes? Why can't she just stay in one place and confront me herself? _Sherlock thought. Just as he was about to open it and see what she decided to leave for him his phone rang. He quickly picked it up.

"Sorry I missed your call, what did you want to tell me?" Captain Gregson asked. Sherlock had forgotten that he had called the Captain before to tell him that he was pretty sure that he had found Watson. But now he's finding riddles from Watson instead. A puzzle in which he has every intention of figuring out. He found himself worrying more and more about her safety, about her. He hated the thought of Ryder having his way with her. He also hated these feelings that he has been feeling of late. It makes him think irrationally. Perhaps it was time that sit with Alfredo and…talk.

"I have found some evidence that proves that Watson is still alive."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Luna here, I would like to say thank you to everyone who has been reading this! And thank you for the Reviews, I really do enjoy reading them! I'm not too sure how far this story will go but we will find out won't we? Enjoy!**

* * *

~Chapter 9: The Talk~

Gregson and Bell arrived at the building and were in shock when they saw where Watson had been living. Bell seemed the most shocked.

"Well at least we know she's been taking care of herself," Gregson said as he took another look around the place. Sherlock simply nodded his head, for once not trusting his words. "So do you have any ideas of how to track her?" he asked.

"I would normally suggest that we look at the local pharmacies to see if we can find her purchasing the medical supplies but I'm not sure how much good that would do us. She picked up basic stuff and if anything she's smart enough to know not to buy bulk at a single store," Sherlock said as he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"What do you have there in your hands Homes?" Gregson asked, taking notice of the notebook in Sherlock's hand. He was hoping that he would be able to keep this for himself a bit longer.

"A notebook, she left it for me," he said as he opened up the notebook again and glanced through the pages of it.

"Does it have anything in there that may tell us where she went off to?"

"No, it's just her notes from her researching all of the places she's been. Notes on Mr. Ryder, the couple a map of the area. And she left me another letter, which doesn't tell me much of anything. It sounds more of a 'thank you' letter than anything else."

"So we're stuck back at square one again?" Detective Bell asked.

"Yes, it would appear that way," Sherlock said as he continued looking around the room, desperately trying to figure something out.

"You sure that you don't know any place where she might go?" Captain Gregson asked, "I mean you two did live with each for a while there. I'm sure you must have learned some stuff about her."

"We never converse about personal stuff such as that. The bits I did know were mostly about her time as a surgeon and how she regretted the accident." He then reread the letter in his hands.

* * *

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I left you the notebook because I figured that you would appreciate the work I did more than anyone. Anyone else would probably dismiss me as crazy for going this far, but I know you would appreciate it. Thank you for everything. I'm sure that you are wondering why I'm leaving letters instead of talking to you face to face. It's really for your protection. This is good bye Sherlock. The sooner you forget me, the better it will be for you. That's all I can say about the situation that I have found myself in. Take care of yourself please, no matter what._

_-J. Watson_

Alfredo was sitting on the couch in the living room. He read over the letter several times. Sherlock sat in his chair staring off in his own contemplation of what the letter means.

"I have every reason to believe that Moriarty is somehow behind this. Maybe somehow she managed to get into contact with Watson, and maybe she threatened Watson with something. And this something must have been quite something if she thinks it would be better for me not to know," Sherlock said before he paused. He closed his eyes while rubbing the sides of his temple. "As all of this progresses I find myself worrying more about Watson's safety. My emotions have been…fluctuating quite a bit. They have been clouding some of my judgment."

"Personally, it sounds like you may love her," Alfredo said. Sherlock just stared at him. "You care about her because of this whole situation, I get that. But these other emotions, it just sounds like you love her. And it sounds like she cares about you a lot if she's doing all of this to protect you."

"From what though?" Sherlock asked frustrated. He felt like he was just going around in circles.

"I don't know, but I hope you figure everything out before it's too late. It sounds like she's leaving the city. And you said that she left that hideout a few hours before you got there right? Well then I think you have a bit of time before you lose her for good," Alfredo said as he got up from the couch and left the letter on the side table.

Sherlock was left there, trying to figure out everything. _Is there really a chance that I…love Joan? Wait, Joan? When have I ever referred to her as Joan?_ Sherlock thought to himself. He ran a hand through his hair and mentally went through every encounter he had ever had with her. He noticed that there was a certain…emotion that was always present between the two of them. He had told her that he was better with her, though he has yet to figure out why. And now, with her gone he felt like he was circling down a drain. All he knew was that he wanted her here, he was confident that if she was here then the answer to this question would present itself to him.

He then remembered that she had all of her belongings in a storage unit, there was a whole big issue about it. Maybe in there are some clues as to where she might be. He quickly looked up information about the storage unit.

P.O.V: Irene/Moriarty

She paced around her cell growing rather impatient with her men. After getting word of Joan's whereabouts she needed to get out there before she missed her opportunity. Her mental rant was interrupted when a guard came by the cell with a woman by his side, one that looked like her. A smile played along her mouth. The guard opened the cell up for her and then shoved the other woman inside in her place.

"You almost had me worried," she said sarcastically.

"Sorry ma'am, they've increased security around here so there were some extra obstacles. Everything is set up and waiting for you."

"And her location?"

"We know where she will be heading. Though she has taken out a good portion of the trade in the city." Moriarty didn't take this too kindly. They were a good resource to have.

"Silly bee, why did you have to leave the hive? This all would have been so much more fun. We could've had an audience to watch," she mumbles to herself. A chuckle at the end of the sentence.

"Ma'am, the car is waiting for you to drive you to..."

* * *

**A/N: Moriarty knows where Watson is! R&R, and Thanks again!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry that this one is a bit short but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! **

* * *

~Chapter 10: Confession ~

Sherlock looked at his phone for the address then back at the buildings. After investigating the storage unit he had concluded that Joan had a friend that she had kept in touch with via mail. Her friend lives in Ontario, Canada. He had managed to find the address to the work place of her friend, which just so happened to be a bar.

He walked in and took a seat at the bar and took notice of the bartender's name tag. It was Joan's friend, Anna. She took notice of Sherlock and came over to him.

"Hey there, can I get you something?" she asked.

"Perhaps, I'm looking for someone named Joan Watson. Would you happen to know her?" Sherlock asked. He felt anxious inside. Her face showed a series of different emotions in what seemed like a minute. She was scared at first, then she was evaluating, and last she seemed to have a mischievous spark in her eyes.

"You know what hun, why don't you come upstairs with me. I can show you what a good time looks like," she said as she came around the counter and grabbed Sherlock's arm. He was confused by this but followed nonetheless. _Maybe we just can't talk about her in public,_ Sherlock thought. Once they made it to the top floor of the stairs she led him to a door. She hadn't said a single word. She opened it up and gestured for Sherlock to go in. He gave her a quizzical look. She winked in response and tried ushering him in. Once he was in she closed the door behind her.

He observed the room, it was a small studio like apartment. The bathroom being the only part of the room that had a door, which was closed. He heard running water, which must have come from the bathroom seeing as how no one was in the kitchen area. Then he heard a voice.

"You have perfect timing, I need some help with these band –" the person said as she stepped out of the bathroom. She stopped mid-sentence when she saw him standing there. "Sherlock?" she asked in a disbelief voice.

His brain was working in overdrive right now. He took her in, how she looked. He felt the anger in him return as he saw the damage done to her. She had bandages that wrapped around her torso. He didn't see any stains on her front side so assumed the damage was on her back. She had fading pink lines on her arms and small scratches on her face. He then tried to figure out what he should say, what he should do.

"Joan," he said as he closed the gap between them. He took her face in between both of his hands and kissed her. It was a kiss that spoke all the words that he could not. Her arms had snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to him. He felt as if his brain was turning off. He almost didn't notice her trying to pull away from the kiss, he wouldn't have it. One of his hands moved to cradle the back of her head and pulled her back to him. The need to breathe interrupted them. He leaned his forehead against hers and they both closed their eyes while taking deep breaths.

"Where the _bloody_ hell have you been?" Sherlock asked. He tried to sound furious but it came out as relief. His arms wrapped around her lower and upper back holding her close. He felt her against his chest, head leaned on his shoulder.

"I told you to forget me," she mumbled in to his shoulder.

"And you thought that I was going to listen to you," he said near her ear. He then kissed just under it and proceeded down her neck. He heard a small sigh escape her lips. This moment, is when Sherlock finds his answer. He pulls back to look at her; hands resting on her hips. The look surprised her, she expected to see his usual sternness but it wasn't there. Something else took its place. "I'm better, with you Joan. I…I need you to stay with me." After studying her face for a moment he pulls her gently for a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Well here's a longer one to make up for the short one. Hope you enjoy and R&R!**

* * *

~Chapter 11: Joan Watson ~

"I'm not sure where I should begin," Joan said as she leaned against the bathroom sink. Sherlock took note that she was gripping onto the sink pretty hard.

"The beginning is usually a good start," Sherlock said. Joan gave a lifeless chuckle.

"It started with letters. I ignored those when I got them. Got rid of them before you noticed. But then one day, one of them caught my eye. She said that she was going to hurt you if I didn't respond," Joan paused. She looked down at the floor and took a deep breath before continuing, "I didn't know what she could and couldn't do. Since I didn't want to risk it I wrote back to her. It continued for a while and somehow it ended up becoming an offer. She said she was impressed by my skills and that she wanted me to work for her."

Joan turned around and turned off the sink and cleaned up the area before she left the bathroom and went to the sink in the kitchen to get a drink. Sherlock stood in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her. He had a view of her back now, he saw the damage seeping through them. His hands – which were by his side – were now clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white. After having her drink in hand she turned to face him again.

"She wanted me to meet her, I told her that the only way I was going to was if she made me. She said that it could be arranged. I didn't want you to get caught up in this, I didn't want you to get hurt. I was your weak link, we may not have a…romantic relationship," she said as she quickly glanced down as a smirk played across her lips. Sherlock mimicked her action. "But our partnership is important to you, I know that much. I thought, at the time, a means of hurting you would be to hurt me."

"And you thought that if you were no longer in my life then Moriarty did not have the upper hand," Sherlock finished.

"Right, so I left. I made myself invisible so she couldn't find me too soon. I cut ties with my family and friends that way she couldn't use anyone as a way to bend me to her will."

"Then why leave the breadcrumbs?" Sherlock asked. Joan didn't respond at first. "Why?"

"Because, I wanted to say good bye. I had a feeling that this was going to be it."

"It?"

"I arranged a meeting with Moriarty to discuss her…offer," she said. Sherlock was furious when he heard this. He was going to say something but Joan interjected before he could speak his mind. "I'm not going to side with her. I have a plan to catch her again. You weren't the only one I left breadcrumbs for. I wanted to meet her on my own terms."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Sherlock asked while battling for control over his emotions.

"I suspected that she had a mole in the police department, so I wasn't going to go to them and tell them of my plans just for it to be relayed to Moriarty."

"And what about me? Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Because I was afraid that you would do something crazy at the mere mention of Moriarty," Joan said. She then smirked. "I do recall how you reacted when I was _kidnapped_ by her, and the time after that FBI cartel guy came to the brownstone."

"Both excellent reasons for me to be concerned about your safety. Both times you could have been hurt or worse killed. And in our line of work instances such as those come a bit more frequent than in any other profession. And –"

"See, this is what I'm talking about. You would have never agreed to letting me do all of this." Sherlock was silent for a moment trying to come up with a proper response.

"I would like to disagree with you but I'm not fond of being wrong." They remained silent for a moment. "How exactly is Moriarty going to meet you if she is in prison? Once we thought that you were alive and that you were probably Moriarty's target we had doubled the security."

"We both know the answer to that question Sherlock," Joan said. She finished her drink and washed the cup out. Sherlock understood this gesture as, they're finished with the conversation. But he still had questions.

"When are you supposed to be meeting her?" Sherlock asked. Joan didn't respond right away. She dried the cup and put it away before she responded.

"Two days from now," she said while crossing her arms across her chest.

"If I cannot divert you from your plan, is there by chance a way for me to assist?" Sherlock asked as walked until he was right in front of her.

"There might be something. But you will have to do your best to listen to the plan and do as told," she said giving a look that said she didn't quite believe he could do it.

"I'm at your disposal."

"Do you have a place to stay at?"

"I would much rather stay here and spend some time with you. It has been a year since we have been able to sit down and talk over a proper tea." She didn't say anything but turned and walked back over to the bathroom. But Sherlock caught it, a smile. When she was in the bathroom he looked down at the floor and smiled. She was alive, and he was with her at that moment. Despite logic and the circumstance the smile still managed to surface.

"Do you need any assistance?" Sherlock asked as he recalled what she said when she had stepped out of the bathroom. He heard a sigh of reluctance through the door that made him chuckle. This whole scene felt routine to him, and not in a bad way. It reminded him of how their lives were one year ago. She opened the door and tried to hide her smile as well. When she looked up at him, he felt like he couldn't control his actions – not that he was against the actions, no it wasn't that. He leaned forward and kissed her slowly. Carefully testing to see if this kiss was something she wanted, if she was okay with it.

She kissed back and it was the only confirmation he needed. The kiss quickly grew passionate. One hand getting tangled in her hair, cradling her head. The other carefully rested on her lower back and pulled her close. He wasn't sure how bad her wounds were but he _needed_ her right now. He needed _his_ Joan.

"I…I love you Joan," he whispered when he stopped for air.

"You should help me with these bandages," Joan whispered back at a loss for words. Sherlock noticed the blush coloring her cheeks and the smile she tried to hide."

"Right," Sherlock said with a smile. He gently turned her around and started to work on the bandages.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey, sorry it has been a while since I have uploaded. So this is the "last" chapter of this story. I may put up an epilogue if you guys want one, (or if I want one) so until that decision has been made I won't change it to 'completed' yet. Anyway I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to all of you have been reading it and writing the reviews! **

**R&R**

* * *

~Chapter 12: The Meeting ~

~Two Days' Time~

Sherlock woke up with his arms wrapped around Joan's warm body, holding her close. Looking at her he tried to commit as much as he could to memory. Since he had found her he had been dreading this day. He had given up trying to reason out a logical explanation as to why he felt this way about her. He accepted that he loved her, and as someone in love he didn't want anything bad to happen to her again. He had tried to persuade her away from her plans but she was stubborn and was very sure of this plan. He didn't want to wake up today.

He brushed back her hair so her neck was exposed. He then gently left a trail of kisses leading up her neck and to her forehead. She slowly stirred awake. When she saw him she gave him a sad, knowing smile. She knew what he was thinking about, he was thinking about her meeting with Moriarty and her plan. Her plan that she refused to tell him unless he agreed to do as told.

"We should probably get ready," she said as she slowly sat up in the bed. But just before she could get out of bed Sherlock kissed her hard. He tried savoring the taste of her because he wasn't sure what was going to happen today. When the need to breathe was required he released her lips. A small sigh escaped her which caused Sherlock to smile with satisfaction.

She got out of the bed to change out of her sleep clothes. Sherlock proceeded to the kitchen area and decided to make something quick. Just as he was done making breakfast he heard Joan calling him from the bathroom, asking for assistance with her bandages again. Once she was all set up she sat at the table to eat breakfast. She smiled at the fact that Sherlock had made breakfast and had set the table. A part of her was sad, the past two days had been a really nice change of pace for her compared to the past year. She sat and savored every bite.

* * *

Sherlock's part of the plan was frustratingly simple. He was to be in a nearby store and wait for the signal. He had inquired about the signal but all she told him was 'you'll know'. _How was he to know?_ He idled himself feigning interest in a book while he tried to deduce what the signal could be. He glanced out the window – which showed the park that Joan was at – and saw a familiar woman get out of a car and proceeded towards her.

* * *

P.O.V: Joan Watson

Joan knew better than to tell Sherlock the full length of the plan, knew better than to tell him her own deductions of what was about to transpire between her and Moriarty. She had anticipated most of this, except Sherlock. Some part of her knew that she should have expected it but it still caught her by surprise.

"Hello Joan," a woman's voice said. Joan looked up unsurprised to see Moriarty. "It's quite nice to finally see you after all of this time. I still find it hard to believe that you took out most of the market," she said with a smirk.

"Wasn't my intention but you left me with no choice when you decided to try to have them hold me. I never thought you would have your hand in that business."

"I'm not a particularly fond of it, however it does have its benefits. They hide people the best. Though may I say that you look quite well for someone in your predicament?"

"We are not here to discuss my wellbeing."

"Contrary, your wellbeing is of some importance. If I am to offer you a business proposal – seeing that you would become a very important asset – your wellbeing warrants concern."

"I still don't quite understand why you would want to employ me."

* * *

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

After seeing that they were still in the park and had moved to a bench Sherlock thought about all the other incidents with Moriarty, she always had extra men on hand. He had contacted Captain Gregson earlier, hoping that he could use his title to get us some help up here. After careful observation Sherlock deduced that the building he was in would be the one with the most vantage point for a sniper attack.

He managed to sneak his way to a back entrance, so that Joan didn't notice him leaving the spot. He found a way to the roof where – sure enough – a man was setting up his equipment. Sherlock snuck up behind him and knocked him out by pushing on some pressure points by his neck. There was some rope left on the roof so he grabbed it and tied up the man so he could not escape as well as check his person for anything that might be useful.

Sherlock carefully peered through the scope and saw that its crosshairs were on Joan. He assumed that this was Moriarty's back up plan. He saw her quickly glance in the direction of the shop, he assumed it was her trying to give him a signal. He was still a bit perplexed because he still wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. Then he saw her smile, _smiling at what? That I'm not there? _ He thought.

* * *

P.O.V: Joan Watson

Joan had taken notice that Sherlock was no longer inside the store front. She glanced up on the roof quickly and saw his figure on the roof by a sniper rifle. He must have taken notice of something and went to investigate.

"Have you decided what you will do Joan?" Moriarty asked.

"I don't think that I will take you up on that offer but thanks anyway," Joan said putting a smile on her face.

"I must say that you have a lot of moxie but that will be your downfall."

"What makes you say that? Because I'm pretty sure that your back up on the roof over there won't assist you." Then Moriarty did something odd, she smiled.

"I don't always give out the dirty work Joan, surely you must have figured that out by now."

"I also know that we are in a public place where people can see us."

"You do recall me saying that I have set up several executions in very public places. This situation is no exception to the rule," she said with a smile. This comment had Joan on edge. "I do wonder how Sherlock will react to hearing that his dear Watson is dead. I do believe it would be a far more amusing reaction if you decided to side with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. The only place that you're going is back to the prison."

"On what accounts?"

"On the account of attempted murder, having involvement in the slave trade business of New York City, and escaping prison for starters," Captain Gregson said. He was right across the street from them accompanied by the Mounties. "The attempted murder is on their account," he said as he gestured to the Mounties. The smile that was on Moriarty's face was long gone by now.

"I think not," she said as two vans drove by shooting arms in every direction. In this moment everything slowed down for Joan. She saw the chaos around her, saw how it distracted everyone. She saw Moriarty reach for what she assumed to be a gun. Joan tried her best to disarm her but it did not work out as well. "We'll meet again my Bee," Moriarty said as she managed to fire her gun. She then got into one of the vans and escaped.

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P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

After seeing the initial shots Sherlock had ran downstairs. By the time he got there the vans were driving away. His mind, however, was only focused on one thing. Captain Gregson was already by her. He looked at her and the only thing he noticed was the fresh blood oozing out of the new wound. The Captain said something to him but he barely heard it, he just stood there staring at Joan. She looked up at him.

"I'll be fine Sherlock," she said. Those four words seemed to bring him back. He immediately bent down and took over putting pressure on it for her.

"You never told me the signal," he muttered.

"There wasn't one. I figured that you would figure out her back up with a clear mind rather than a worrying one. Which, you did very well at that. I'll be honest, I didn't expect her to actually pull the trigger," she said.

"Honestly Joan, you go up against a criminal mastermind who wishes to either persuade you to join or kill you, one who goes to the trouble of having back up and you did not anticipate her having a gun on person? It's like I never trained you," Sherlock said with light humor at the tail end of his sentence. Joan smirked and then he saw her nodding off. "Joan, no! Don't you dare nod off! You have to stay awake!"

"I know, I know," she said while trailing off.

"Captain! We need an ambulance right now!" Sherlock screamed while still applying pressure to the wound.

"Don't worry Sherlock, I'll be fine," Joan said while trying to stay awake. She honestly wasn't sure how long she could keep up this tug-a-war game with herself.

"Shush, Joan. Don't worry, we will get you to the hospital."

"I…I love you Sherlock." He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I love you too Joan. You have to hang in there for me."


	13. Epilogue

**A/N: So here it is, the Epilogue! I hope you enjoy it. Thank you everyone who read this, reviewed this, followed it and favorited it!**

**R&R please and enjoy!**

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Epilogue

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

~A Few Months Later~

The sunlight was bright in the brownstone. It supported the events that were transpiring before the great Sherlock Holmes. He couldn't quite make sense of it nor could he figure out a proper response to it. It had been a while since the whole Irene incident. Joan's things were in boxes consuming most of the space in the living area. Looking around the room caused a smile to appear on the great Sherlock Holmes' face. Some movers came in and started moving the boxes upstairs to her room.

Sherlock had sifted through her stuff and devised a list of items he thought she would no longer require considering the circumstances. He was supposed to pick her up today from the hospital. She had gone in for a check-up, the doctors were especially worried about her because of all the injuries she had sustained over the time. She stayed in the hospital for a while, the doctors were impressed that there weren't many bones that healed out of place. He remembered that she had insisted that she would be more comfortable at home. As far as her identity went, she had kept hard copies in her storage unit so it wasn't super hard to restore everything.

~Later That Day~

"Do you disapprove of this arrangement?" Sherlock asked Joan as they stood in her newly furnished room. She just circled the room without saying a word.

"It's great Sherlock, thanks," she said as she turned around and faced him giving him a smile. He smiled in return. Now that she was back and more or less well, he was very curious about their relationship. Since the whole thing they haven't said anything about it. They never said those words again to each other. He didn't want to bombard her with it during her recovery, worried that any kind of stress would cause her recovery to delay.

"I believe that we have some things to discuss," Sherlock said. Joan studied him for a moment before responding. She walked to him and stopped when she was mere inches from his face. He felt his whole body stiffen. He began chastising himself for reacting like this, a few months ago for two days he did not once react like this. His rant was interrupted when he felt her hands rest on his chest and her lips on his.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening. And only another moment to react. One arm wrapped around her waist carefully and pulled her close while his other hand found itself tangled in her long hair and cradled her head. He felt her hands slide up his chest and find their way to his neck where they wrapped around him; tugging him closer. The kiss was gentle compared to the ones they shared before.

"Does that answer your question?" Joan asked Sherlock after she pulled away.

"Most of them yes, my dear Watson," he says with a smile, a slightly mischievous smile. Joan looked at him with a question written all over her face. "It doesn't quite answer the question of us becoming monogamous. I would very much like to be with you in as many ways as the term may imply."

"This isn't a marriage proposal is it?" she asked. Sherlock chuckled.

"It's one step away from one. Believe me when I say that if I were to propose a unity such as marriage to you that I would do it with more finesse. I may not be a romantic person but even I know that with something like that is usually accompanied with a gift."

"So this is a proposal for us to become a couple?" she asked with a smile slowly coming to her face.

"Yes, now I just require an answer." Joan leans into him and kisses him again with slightly more force. He wanted to succumb to it but he wanted to hear her answer.

"As lovely as these kisses are my dear Joan, I would very much like to hear your response to the proposal."

"Yes, I agree to your proposal." She barely finished saying her sentence when Sherlock's lips came crashing down hungry for hers.

And for a moment, everything was still in Sherlock's mind. He felt relieved of his constant thinking. The only thing his mind focused on was the woman that was before him. His brain was trying to memorize everything about her. He didn't think about the stack of cold cases that usually consumed his attention. He didn't think about the text messages that were left on his phone from Captain Gregson inquiring how Joan was doing with her recovery. He didn't think about the fact that Moriarty had escaped, knowing that they would get her again and put her back in prison. Nor did he think about the phone call from his brother that he missed as well as the phone call from Alfredo. He would have to call back Alfredo later and thank him, and apologize to him for missing the meeting.

Sooner than he expected he hungered for more than just her lips. He moved his kisses to her cheek then trailed down her neck slowly. She was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath. When he had made it to her collarbone he pulled up and looked at her face; his eyes being pulled to the faint scars that now rested on certain parts of her otherwise perfect face. As he stared at her his hand busied itself by playing with the end of a strand of hair.

"I don't think they'll go away," she said as she glanced down.

"You're probably right. But they show how brave you are," Sherlock says as his hand goes to stroke one of the scars on her cheek. These scars show him how far she was willing to go to protect him and everyone else from Moriarty. They will remind him of how much good resides in her, she saved many girls' lives. She was _his_. And he would be damned to let anyone try to take her away from him, even herself. "How are the other…lashes?" he asked. He still had trouble talking about the damage that was done to her body. Part of him still remembers the vivid details Mr. Ryder had given him.

"I can sleep on the bed comfortably," she said. This causes a very mischievous grin on Sherlock's face.

"This means you would be comfortable doing other things with the bed, correct?" he asked as he placed light kisses all over her face, making a point to kiss each scar.

"After a shower."

"Perhaps I can join you?"

"Perhaps," she says with a laugh as she pulled herself away from Sherlock and headed to the bathroom. He did not hear her lock the door so he took this as an affirmative.

**The End...**

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**A/N: Hey Luna again, so I hope again that you enjoyed this Fic. If you (by some odd chance) would like to see a sequel make sure you either message me or write in the review, same thing if you have any ideas for it. In the (hopefully) near future I will be posting another JoanLock, so until then my friends.**


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